


It's a brand new day, and I'm miles away

by Splatx



Series: Evan, also known as "This is a Bad Idea(TM) [8]
Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Time Travel, Violence, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes, Winter Soldier rehabilitation, just me, literally no one, who asked for this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:29:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26184973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Splatx/pseuds/Splatx
Summary: So she sighed and turned Cassim towards the Adler homestead, kicked him into a trudging walk, only to be nearly thrown when he reared, coming down hard and dancing away from a strange shape on the road.A man lay face down, half-covered by the snow.
Series: Evan, also known as "This is a Bad Idea(TM) [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1876702
Kudos: 3





	1. Sooner or later it ends in goodbye

###  _It's a brand new day / and I'm miles away_  
~Turning My Life Around, Malcolm Cumming & Ella Hunt

###  _Sooner or later it ends in goodbye_  
~Break Away, Ella Hunt, Malcolm Cumming, Sarah Swire

She’d always been a loner.

For as long as she could remember, she had preferred to be on her own. As a child, she’d played with Bingo, her favorite street dog, while all the kids were playing marbles. Once her parents had died, she had taken to working under shopkeeps and hunters instead of joining the bands of street rats.

And after she had been falsely arrested, and spent more than her fair share (at least at the time) of time in Sisika, she had only become moreso. She never stayed in one place for long, drifting in and out of town before anyone could get attached. Instead of sticking around Horley, doing work exclusively for him and his Mistress, she had become a mercenary of sorts, taking on work from various people across the states.

  
  


She'd never been one for building relationships. Any relationships she did allow to form were strictly business, and even those she was leery of. While she was well aware of the benefits of a strong business relationship, she tended not to work with the same person for extended periods of time and, if she had to, she tried not to do it often, to keep from getting friendly. Give her a good, strong (or fast, she wasn't picky), horse and maybe a dog, and she had all the companionship she could ever need.

Which was why her current situation was so odd.

  
  


She was curled up as close as was safely possible to the fireplace in Flaco's cabin, hair dangling loose around her face. Blood was drying on her jacket, she had her payment in her pocket, and her guns needed cleaning. But, for once, she hadn't headed right back out into the snow. It had begun to snow heavily while heading back to his cabin and, by the time he paid her, it sounded as though ghosts were wailing at the door; she dreaded the ride back down the mountain in such a storm. The gunslinger had given a dramatic sigh, before offering for her to wait out the worst of the storm in his cabin.

Despite her reservations, it was well worth it. It was still chilly in the cabin, but she had a fire to sit by. And, as it turned out, when Flaco had enough to drink, he got chatty. Particularly about his hayday, when he was the most notorious gunslinger in the West. As a budding gunslinger, and someone who was always interested in a good story, she was fascinated. 

From his stories, it was hard to believe he had lived to be so _old_ . Leaping onto trains (she’d only jumped _off_ a train before, and now she fully intended practicing jumping on and off an abandoned one so that she could properly raid trains in the future), being, quite literally, stabbed and shot in the back. Standing on the gallows, rope around his neck, making miraculous getaways as the trapdoors dropped out from beneath his feet.

She felt almost like a kid, really. Leaning forward in anticipation to hear how he got away this time, eyes wide and mouth open in wonder. Clutching her legs when he got to the climax, tense despite knowing he would survive seeing as he sat in front of her, but he had a way of telling his stories that had her entranced. Twice already, he had slammed the heel of his boot into the ground, howling with laughter when she jumped.

For once, spending time with someone was… nice.

As of late, she’d slowly been growing used to people. Flickering in and out of their lives - that boy, Sean, though probably he was a bit older than her, sitting at the fire while she waited for the wagon to get closer, listening to an insane story of his; the Adlers, giving in and supping with them when she returned from the work they’d sent her on around dinner time; even that cruel bastard Joe, sticking around as she bandaged up her wounds as she came back to get her pay.

But this was… _a lot._

  
  


She yawned, and Flaco laughed, “Tired, _mi asesina?”_ and she glared, fighting the urge to reach up and rub her eyes. Yes, of course, she’d spent all day tracking down a gaggle of bounty hunters for him, what did he expect?

It wasn’t long before she was dead asleep, dozing off to the low rasp of his knife shaving a block of wood that never did seem to take shape.

  
  


She woke, and headed out, early, to a call of “Stay warm!” from Flaco, a two fingered salute to him, and a stomach full of awful offal - she didn’t trust many people, but especially she didn’t trust anyone who liked the taste of offal.

Even her half blind, mostly-toothless dog refused to sniff in the direction of offal.

  
  


Mounting up, she trotted towards Colter, than paused. Evan enjoyed the cold, but not _Grizzlies_ cold, and wanted to get down to Valentine so she could sell off the pelts she’d piled up on the Ardennes’ rump and restock her ammunition, but it had been a _nasty_ storm and the Adlers hadn’t dealt with too many.

The Adlers had been awful kind to her.

So she sighed and turned Cassim towards the Adler homestead, kicked him into a trudging walk, only to be nearly thrown when he reared, coming down hard and dancing away from a strange shape on the road.

A man lay face down, half-covered by the snow.


	2. New morning, feels different than before

###  _New morning, feels different than before_  
~Turning My Life Around, Malcolm Cumming & Ella Hunt

The Asset wasn’t allowed to hate. But shit, if he didn’t hate the cold.

He didn’t know why. But when he tried to sleep when he was cold, he had horrible nightmares. A sense of falling, that awful yank in your stomach. A burst of pain, a voice calling  _ “Bucky!” _ and what’s a ‘Bucky’?

  
  


The Asset knew better than to leap awake.

So though he was awake in a moment, he played at being asleep. Kept his breathing long and slow, didn’t allow his eyelids to so much as twitch.

He was missing time. Though he wasn’t sure how much time, there was that awful feeling of time lost. The Asset remembered last… remembered last… aiming at his target. His target had turned to look at him, they’d locked eyes, and then… then he’d been  _ freezing. _ Sluggish, unable to move. Fading in and out.

And then there’d been a voice. Someone urging him up, something moving roughly beneath him.

Nothing, then, until now.

  
  


The Asset’s mask had been removed, that he could tell. Nothing was pinching at his nose, squeezing his chin. And there was nothing heavy on his chest - he’d been stripped down to nothing, had he been captured?

He opened his eyes slowly, found himself looking at the roof of a tent. Which was odd, because he didn’t remember setting up a tent, and he didn’t take off his mask when he was on a mission unless he had to go undercover. A look around, and he found his mask sitting on his folded clothing and, throwing the furs off of himself, he found he’d been stripped to his undergarments, his torso wrapped in bandages and okay moving hurt.

The Asset was not supposed to feel relief, but he felt relief when he saw all of his weapons (many, _many_ weapons) set atop the pile, what couldn’t fit piled carefully besides it.

Carefully he stood, eyeing the opening to the tent. It was tied shut, but he knew he was somewhere cold - could feel it now that he was out of the warm furs, could see his breath pluming in front of his face. If they were trying to trap him in the tent, then they hadn’t done a good job of it so, though he’d rather get a look at his surroundings, he went about getting dressed, feeling a great deal more comfortable - and warm - once he’d gotten on his clothing and weapons belt, gun loose in his hand. He left his mask off - it only ever got in his way - and attached it to his belt, drawing it as he undid the knot that held the tent flap shut, slowly peering out once there’d been no movement, no attempt to come in or to shoot him.

  
  


There was a woman outside.

She sat with her back to him, a campfire in front of her and a horse not far away. That was  _ definitely _ strange, he’d hidden in barns more times than he could count but horses weren’t exactly a normal part of his job. The woman reached forward, sticking something into the fire, and spoke without turning to him, “You’re awake, I was starting to think you wouldn’t wake up.”

He hesitated, not allowing his wariness to show on his face, holding tight to his gun, but she didn’t seem bothered as he stayed standing, hunched, in the opening of the tent.

“How are you feeling? I tried to care for your wounds but I’m no doctor and I didn’t think it was a good idea to move you down the mountain like that.”

The Asset hesitated, took a moment to assess himself - his chest had already healed up already, he was certain, “Feel well enough.” he offered, and she looked back over at him though he couldn’t make out much, her face cast into shadows by the campfire.

“That’s good, feel well enough to eat? Got some venison cooking.” and it didn’t seem she was lying, he recognized the smell of venison sizzling on the air, so he nodded, straightening up as he stepped out into the cold and moving to sit across from her, accepting a piece of venison and discretely sniffing it - it didn’t smell tampered with, and it looked fine, and the serum would handle anything she might have put in it if it had slipped under his radar.

The Asset did wonder, though, why she was being so kind to him, and what her motives were.


End file.
